Amber Waves of Gain

Amber, Emerald, Diamond, Garnet, Ruby;
All alike in life's prestige, a priceless
Jewel of modern domination. Gentry
Who upon the tribulation, lifeless
Falls and crashes underneath the honored
Time thereof. As they with power ought soon
Learn; all things both great and small are fonder
Still of priceless breath that passes o'er strewn
Grains of wheat that harvest chopped a long by
Time ago. The grains that fell with careless
Hands among the many timeless years. Lie
Here and now disseminated; listless
Where the scythe has reaped. By hewing into
Chaff the animated wheat from hence was
Seed. From such a careless toss to grow new
Life, that with a coup d'├ętat is dead, 'cause
High and low all turn to earth, all wreckage.
Dust to dust. For now the jewels so highly
Praised are base, for wheat is life. The average
Stalk of wheat is gleaned, but one year quickly
Spent to feed a living life that promptly
Sows, to reap again. The obsolescence
Jewels displayed to be an felo-de-se
Sore. Displayed to only show a talent,
Nothing higher than the aptitude, 'bove
Hunger, still for greed. A jewel so fair yet
Hence inconsequential stone of days of
Yore. So ancient carbon appetites whet;
Power still has need to steal. If figment
Mystifying truth and beauty from free
Blowing wheat that nature cannot tame. Gent
Otherworldly powers learn from past the
Bounds of time to glean the truth, not knowing
Which of carbon priceless finds, and splendor
Never comes in sparkling pleasure lying
Glinting fare in light of fortune's favor.
Hence yet all the gold is not of pebble.
Gems are worthless whist the waves of Amber
Priceless far above the mortal rebel
Who from now shall nameless live in darker
Haunt to play with tender minds that open
Hearts and heads and souls to incandescent
Falsely burning scripture, flaming bold when
Those who look have never seen the frequent
Victims that can spring from wealth's unjustly
Pride. However, flowing grains unite the
Heart and spirit more than false, and every
True and Pure and effervescent soul's glee
Cannot help but find the absolute bliss
Radiated from stalks of wheat blowing
To and fro in windy fields; none amiss,
When the fallen seeds of yore; still growing.